Virtue FlawCompassion Flaw: Red Rage of CompassionFull Break: All the suffering that Glorious Horizon has seen fills him with an unquenchable rage. He immediately attacks the most obvious cause, without consideration for himself or the situation. His rage overcomes sense and reason. He is unlikely to perform even simple acts such as putting down objects in his hands or drawing a weapon. However, he does not suffer wound penalties while in this state. Without obvious targets, he enters a terrible rage, moving erratically from area to area, smashing objects without consideration for value and lashing out at anyone foolish enough to interfere.Partial Control: Glorious Horizon must immediately attack any source of suffering, but he can apply his rage effectively, using weapons, Charms and spells normally. Without a nearby target, he seeks out oppressors he has seen before and does not calm down until he finds one. He will also attack anyone who attempts to stop him. He suffers normal wound penalties in this state.Conditions: Horizon sees innocents suffering and is unable to effectively interveneDuration: One scene in combat or hours equal to Compassion

Background
Born in the Diu Xie Prefecture on the Blessed Isle, the one who would grow up to become Glorious Horizon was first christened as White Bull. His parents worked to produce porcelain but the life of a craftsman was not for White Bull and instead of learning their art, he joined the clergy. Already having been raised to follow the Immaculate Philosophy, his natural charisma, discipline, and drive to help those in need made the transition to the structured life of a priest simple enough for him.

What really pleased him was preaching and speaking to his flock. The position of leadership and spiritual responsibility that falls on the shoulders of a priest felt natural to White Bull. Not naturally skilled in the more spiritual aspects of being an Immaculate monk, nor in martial arts, he loved most speaking to the masses arrayed before him, thirsty for the divine wisdom he espoused, promoting the Immaculate and degrading the so-called Anathema. However, one quality about him bothered several people in positions of authority: White Bull considered slavery to be an abhorrent practice and the rigid caste system of the Realm, even though supported by the Immaculate Philosophy, was unnatural and self-destructive. In his sermons, he preached the virtues of equality and rule by the people, for to him, every man and woman was intrinsically identical and setting one above the other because of who their parents were was ridiculous, and shouldn't the common man have a say in how he lives? A man deserves to live his life how he wants, not how someone tells him to.

These sermons were increasingly popular with the oppressed, the poor, and the enslaved. Even freemen showed up to listen, and forces beyond his ability to combat began to move against him; after all, free thinkers are dangerous. The first step was seemingly innocuous; he was assigned to join a mission leaving from the Blessed Isle to the Threshold to preach. White Bull considered it a reward, even, because he would have yet more people to spread his message to and he might even have an effect in lands outside of the Realm.

It quickly became apparent it was not a reward.

The first thing to go wrong was none of the other priests who were supposed to go with him showed up. The captain of the ship chartered to take him across the sea simply shrugged and left without them, despite White Bull's protests. The next thing to fail horribly was the storms. Not one day on the journey to the Threshold wasn't plagued by torrential downpours, tossing the ship to and fro, and the ship, which was supposed to be some kind of cargo ship, had an awful lot of shackled emplacements below deck. Not only that, but the captain was kind of a jerk, not at all personable or polite to the priest of all people.

And that's when it clicked.

He wasn't going to preach to the Threshold. The prison shackles, no other cargo on the ship, the harshness of the crew… this wasn't a ship carrying trade goods, this was a slave ship and White Bull was going to be their newest sale.

Attempting to fight back against his captors, he was quickly overpowered and locked below decks. Fed gruel and beaten regularly to break his will, he didn't see sunlight for the next three weeks until he was dragged out of the holds and taken to a slave market near Nexus. He was bought by some obese nobleman, who took White Bull to one of his residences and used the former monk as a servant. From then on, White Bull was known as Glory, for his new master enjoyed giving his slaves ironic names.

However, Glory did not remain a slave for very long. He quickly learned the patterns of his new master and the points of weakness where he could escape. However, one thing puzzled him, and that was how to get the other slaves out of their home. There was also the point to consider that the nobleman wasn't a particularly harsh master; he punished incompetence, for sure, but he treated his slaves like they were human. Glory decided he would leave by himself and, escaping into the Undercity of Nexus, he found an unattended smithy and used the tools there to break the signs of bondage he had on his body and did his best to conceal the other marks.

And then, doing what he did best, Glory began to preach. At first he simply introduced himself, careful to use his slave name, to the other inhabitants of his new community and was shocked by the immense poverty and deplorable conditions of living in the Undercity. It reeked of human waste and what walls existed were covered in decades' worth of grime. A black poisonous fog filled the air as well, and words of the better world above ground and how they could easily start improving their lot in life were well received by the other inhabitants of the dark tunnels. A plan began to form in his mind, and this plan called for more followers. Glory gathered the Undercity residents with the most potential and told them his plan: first, they would become slaves and go out to work in the swamp rice fields. Spreading his word there, they would then go into the city itself and unite what slaves they could. After gaining as many followers as possible, the poor, the oppressed, and the enslaved would rise up and march out of the city to make a new land for themselves.

Over the next six years, his followers grew from the few hundred who lived in the Undercity to the thousands of slaves who worked in the rice fields to several more thousand urban slaves. Amassing a group of around six thousand, his years of preparation came to fruition. Those who were shackled broke their bonds with tools smuggled into their rooms and hidden cleverly. Those who were poor gathered the meager weapons they had been collecting over time and distributed them. Those who were oppressed marched through the streets with their heads held high and they amassed near the eastern gate of Nexus before forcing their way out and beginning their exodus to find a new place to live.

Obviously this did not sit well with the Council of Nexus. Puzzled as to how they even missed these developments in the first place, they mobilized in record time and sent out a pacifying force to put down this slave revolt. A few dozen miles southeast of Nexus, on a set of hills, Glory made his stand. He trained everyone he could in what martial arts he could remember, and weapon drills were taught for several hours each day to bring some amount of competence to the undisciplined, untrained rabble. Glory arrayed his battle line with a spear wall in the center of his forces, in the heaviest armor they could quickly amass (which wasn't much), with groups of archers and peltasts behind them. Sitting on the flanks were what cavalry they could amass through horse theft. It wasn't much, but they had an advantage in terrain, and they had the thirst for freedom in their hearts, and that was all Glory could realistically expect.

He took up his position in the center of the battle line, equipped with a spear like the others, and stood defiantly on the day the Nexan force finally arrived to put down the revolt. Though of smaller size, the stark difference in discipline and equipment was intensely disheartening; the Nexan army marched in rigid blocks, in step with every other man in the unit, and the sun gleamed off of their weapons and armor as they approached. Sensing the plummeting morale, Glory rushed back to the camp with a few of his followers and they quickly erected a makeshift pedestal in front of the rebels. In his next speech, he poured all of his love, all of his hopes and dreams, and all of his confidence that no matter what, they would win. For hours he spoke; sometimes breaking down into tears and other times jumping and yelling as loud as he could from his poor-man's pulpit. Near the end of his speech, he turned from his men and faced the army of Nexus, which was now in earshot. He spoke of fire and brimstone awaiting the servants of Nexus and as he raised his arms high into the sky, the sun at midday shone directly down upon him. He had the favor of the gods, he had the love of his followers, he was indestructible… and, wait, was the army of Nexus fleeing?

Not only that, but his own followers began to scream and run as well. Glory looked around, confused as to what was going on. He couldn't see any other threats, just crowds of people running as fast as their legs would carry them away from… away from….

Away from him.

The sun wasn't beaming straight down on him. The bright light came from within his self, not from the sky above. He fell to his knees, confused as to what was happening. He'd heard about this ability back when he was a monk, but he was certain he wasn't a Dragon-blooded and there was no way he could be Anathema. Could it? No, certainly not. So what was going on? He held his head in his hands and wept for a few moments before looking up to see… something. A being stood before him, a being of immeasurable grace, beauty, and power. Brilliant, bright, though soft, light shown from his countenance and each of his four arms carried a different item; a lance, a shining shield, a laurel branch and a horn. He smiled softly as Glory looked up at him, his mouth agape and eyes wide.

"I don't suspect you were expecting me of all people, were you?" The being spoke, his voice strong but kind, like that of a stern but fair father.

"You're… you're Sol Invictus, aren't you?" Glory replied, surprised he could even reply to such a powerful individual. He felt rude, almost, for speaking up.

"I prefer the Unconquered Sun or Ignis Divine myself, but to each their own. Do you know why I'm here, White Bull? Maybe you read about it in your libraries as a monk."

"The Blasphemous of the Anathema often see visions of you when their power is unleashed for the first time. Is that what I am, a demon? I can't live like that," Glory quickly stood and rushed forward, grabbing the being by his armor. He rested his head against the man's chestplate and cried. "This is too much. I can't do this."

"But you can, White Bull," the sun said, lifting White Bull's head. "You are not blasphemous or 'Anathema.' You are a Zenith, you are among my priests in this world. You have the spark in you for a reason. You have my power for a reason. Use it wisely, White Bull, for you are the glorious horizon that people will look upon when they need help the most. You will be strong, and you will spread my word. Go forth with my blessings."

With that, the Unconquered Sun disappeared, fading into thin air as suddenly as he had appeared. Around White Bull stood six of his followers, who had not fled when he started to glow. One of them stepped forward and asked, "Are you alright, sir?"

White Bull simply nodded in return before standing, looking to the western sky, and turning back to his remaining followers. He smiled. "Yes, I am fine. I have a new plan. We will still fight for democracy, and we will still fight for equality and freedom, but we have a new patron as well. I walk with the glory of the Unconquered Sun. I am the Glorious Horizon."

With that, the seven men left, heading east. Horizon had no doubt the Wyld Hunt would be after him, and he had to get out of the Scavenger Lands as soon as possible. He also needed a new area to spread his word to… and the Hundred Kingdoms sounded perfect.